


Rum, Sodomy and the Eyelash

by Entropy House (AnonEhouse)



Category: Drake's Venture
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Entropy%20House
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this universe, when a privateer is given license to rape and plunder, and that privateer is Francis Drake... well, Thomas Doughty might discover Drake takes it literally.</p><p>(Yes, this is crack, very much so.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rum, Sodomy and the Eyelash

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Ned Bright swore afterwards that he was only lifting the hatch to check the carpentry he'd done on the hinges, but everyone knew he was a sneak and a gossip and a very bad liar. John Brewer was with him, though, and backed up the shocking story that Ned had run to tell the Captain General on the poop.

"God's own truth," Ned said while groveling on his knees before Drake (a common pose for him, brown-nosing little bugger that he was.) "There they were below decks, kissing!"

Drake frowned. "Tis a most serious and damnable offense." He nudged Ned out of the way with one booted foot. "Bring Master Vicarye and Master Doughtie to me on the instant!"

The crew had been disgruntled since Drake had informed them they weren't off to purchase Spanish fly for quick resale, but instead were going a privateering on the Spanish main so the thought of someone getting flogged, tied to the mast, keel-hauled or made to kiss the Captain-General's rosy red arse filled them with glee. At last, entertainment!

The two gentlemen were hauled before Drake, disheveled and irked. Doughtie yelped as John Brewer pinched him on the arse in revenge for the cobbey. "How likest thou that, sirrah!" he smirked.

"Twas not what you think," Vicarye said hastily as Bright's callused carpenter's hands aimed at his backside. "I attempted to seduce Master Doughtie, but he would have none of me!"

Drake's frown grew. "Thou are an arrant coward Lennie! Wouldst not share the fault with thy leman?"

Doughtie blushed a most becoming raspberry pink. "I am not Leonard's leman! We are but good friends as I am to all in this company."

The crew hushed their good natured speculations, and stared at the gentleman in shock. Hadn't he been to Italy? 

Drake cleared his throat, and put the question to Doughtie. "Speak but honest words, Master Doughtie, and prate no more lying lawyer's tales." He shook his head and said what everyone was thinking, "Admit you are an Italianate bastard."

Doughtie went white. "I am never such a thing!"

Drake whirled on Vicarye. "What say you?"

Vicarye bowed his head in shame for his friend. "It is so. Doughtie is a Templar unridden, mongst all the gay scandals, never was his face seen. He passeth his time in study and in military practise, stern and righteous in his religious readings." Vicarye sighed. "He is a stick-in-the-mud, a cherry unpitted, a fowl unstuffed, a sheath unfilled, a...."

Drake slapped his thigh, "A bloody virgin!" He snarled. "Not on any ship I command! Fetch the saddle!"

"Aye!" A dozen mariners squabbled with an equal number of gentlemen for the privilege of obeying, but were beaten out by Little Nele who squirmed through the swarm to return triumphantly with their favorite instrument of discipline. Well, that and the cat o' nine tails. He set the odd-shaped, strap-hung stool in front of Drake, and accepted a kick in his arse as his reward.

Doughtie went red again and drew himself up with as much dignity as possible, considering that Bright was now groping him with both hands. "I protest most heartily! This is a rank and odious humiliation unbefitting my station!"

Drake grunted, and undid Doughtie's slops. "Woudst thou rather be hung as a dog?" He contemplated the prize he'd pulled from his Christmas pudding. "Hung like a horse, rather. Albeit thou shouldst firm up thy resolve."

Doughtie squeaked as Drake inspected him like a maidservant sent for ripe pears. "That which you contemplate is rape!"

Drake blinked. "John," he said, waving to his brother, who was taking advantage of the deck melee which Drake hadn't dispersed by picking pockets (so far he'd found an erotic carving, tuppence ha'penny, and a rabbit's foot) "Go to my cabin and procure my commission."

John was well accustomed to procuring, and was swift in his return with the parchment. Drake took it and unrolled it with a snap, displaying the royal seal in which lions were having a ménage a trios. "From our beloved old Queen, Victor! _It gives me greatest pleasure to order that our most loyal subject, Francis Drake, be given command of a fleet in order that he may the better ravish, plunder and rape._ "

"In this context, I'm sure his Majesty meant _Rape_ means to steal Spanish gold!" Doughtie protested.

"Prating lawyer! Rape means RAPE!" Drake shouted and the crew cheered. "I shall stiffen thy sinews to obey the maritime laws which our beloved Queen so wisely has proclaimed! All able-bodied seamen are to commit sodomy in public so often as it be necessary to raise morale and keep the evil of pent-up flux from causing spite and dissension. Is there a man 'mongst you has not done his duty for England and the Queen?

"NAY!" The shout shook the sails.

"Tie the puppy down; he shall be my bitch today!" Drake roared.

"YAY!" Doughtie was spread, and strapped down, whimpering.

Drake grinned, slicked himself from the on-deck pot 'o goose grease and mounted his yard in Doughtie's stern despite the lawyer's struggles and threats of repercussions upon their return to England. "Forsooth, thou art a tight arse!" He slapped Doughtie's thigh and rode him hard, with a mariner's easy accommodation to rough seas.

Everyone watched, cheerfully counting the strokes -- those who could count. Rum rations were broken out. Cocks were fondled. Vicarye pouted.

Drake finished, and smacked Doughtie hard on his arse before pulling out. "I dub thee first cabin boy!" Doughtie moved his head to give Drake a dirty look, which was somewhat marred by the tears glistening in his eyelashes. 

Vicarye pouted. Drake grinned. "But as you see, he is not well-mannered enough to be properly grateful for the position. I shall allow you to expand his education."

Vicarye swooped forward eagerly and took Drake's place and began humping with all the grace and finesse of a deprived goat.

For the first time chaplain Fletcher spoke up, to be heard over Doughtie's whimpers which now had a tone of lust confirmed by his cock rubbing the smoothly polished curve beneath the saddle. "Er, I have experience in training altar boys."

Drake clapped Fletcher on the shoulder. "You shall be next. He must also learn to serve whilst kneeling." He sat in the chair his favorite flautist brought for him and listened to Doughtie's groans while the crew broached another cask of goose grease and lined up by senority.

"It is good to be Captain-General," Drake said while his flautist fingered his pipe. "Very good, indeed."


End file.
